Asiya yawned impolitely as Yusuf walked around the car. It was past Magrib. Her nikkah was over, and she was officially married.

Yusuf opened the door and smirked. "Hey, I want to tell you something."

"I think we're moving too fast," he said in a light and playful tone. "I mean, I just met you; we've had a nikkah, sure, but now you're trying to pick me up and take me out of the country."

Asiya smiled and rolled her eyes. "Just get in the car, Yusuf," she instructed while patting the driver's seat.

"See what I mean about trying to pick me up?" Yusuf grinned as he slid into the car and shut the door.

"If I had been fully in charge of who I picked up, you may not have been the one sitting here," Asiya joked.

Yusuf gasped dramatically and leaned towards her.

His lips slanted mischievously as his eyes roamed across Asiya's face. He picked up Asiya's hand and melted his fingers through hers. 

 "Who else would you have picked if not me?" Yusuf asked, giving Asiya an adoring smile.

Asiya couldn't hold Yusuf's gaze, so she dropped it like a raw egg falling from its shell and wriggled her fingers.

This was the first time they had been together, alone, and Yusuf's boldness emphasised the absence of a third person.

"Sorry. I should've asked," Yusuf apologised as he loosened his grip.

How many times are you going to make this man apologise, Asiya?

It wasn't like she didn't like Yusuf touching her.

The opposite was true. All day, the parts of Asiya that Yusuf had touched, grazed or whispered against had come alight like his hand was a match, and her body was a board.

She didn't mind him touching her. His touches were reassuring. Each one confirmed that he liked her without Asiya asking, and they encouraged her to ignore what Yusuf's family and guests had said about her.

Asiya braced her fingers around Yusuf's own, stopping their hands from separating.

"No. You don't need to," Asiya said. She could feel her heart swelling nervously in her chest.

"I like it, I do," Asiya said as she inspected their connected hands.

Their fingers rested perfectly on the gaps between each other's knuckles as though their bodies had been moulded with the other in mind. Asiya squeezed Yusuf's hand for extra reassurance. "Okay?"

"Okay," Yusuf smiled before clearing his throat. "But I will need my hand to drive, and you're kind of cutting off my blood supply."

Asiya released Yusuf's hand before smacking it lightly.

Yusuf pressed a button, and the car roared to life. "How did you find today?"

"Tiring," Asiya replied.

The size of the party they had held after the nikkah was no comparison to how big Asiya's mendhi had been. However, Asiya was still exhausted, and her body felt battered. Being the new couple, they had been the entertainment for their guest all day.

"Same. After today, I'm wondering why we didn't leave a gap between today and the walima," Yusuf said.

Because. Despite all of Asiya's fears and reservations, she wanted to be married quickly. She wanted all the customs of their union complete because getting married had initially felt like the hardest thing to do.

"I guess we'll be able to rest on our honeymoon," Yusuf said.

Asiya laughed, disguising her nerves. "Rest? Have you read my itinerary, Yusuf? We're going to Turkiye. There's so much to see there. Resting is not on the agenda."

Yusuf grinned as he looked at her. "I'm starting to think I married a dictator. What else am I going to discover about you?"

Asiya fiddled with the loose thread on her sleeve as the hotel they were staying in came into full view. "Nothing," she squeaked.

Once they had parked, Yusuf checked them in, and a bellman escorted them to their room.

Asiya felt like her legs were turning into stone. Each step she took towards their room felt heavier and harder, and she almost toppled to the ground when she entered.

Heart shaped helium balloons were anchored around the dimly lit room. Ribbons were wrapped around the posts of the king-sized bed, red rose petals were scattered over it, and two swans made from towels nestled together in the middle of it.

Everything in the room had been designed and decorated to damn the guests to an intimacy Asiya didn't feel ready for. Even the notepad on the desk had hearts embossed into them.

"Where's the second bed?" Asiya joked dryly, earning a short chuckle from Yusuf.

She quickly turned on the main light, brightening her warped reflection in a balloon.

Yusuf hastily removed his thobe, dropped it on the floor and threw himself onto the bed in his white suit shirt and black trousers. "This feels so good," he groaned into the mattress as he stretched like a starfish.

"Looks like it," Asiya mumbled as she unzipped her case.

Her movements were shaky.

The placement of her things was unfamiliar to her because Olivia and her sisters had packed her case, and she could feel Yusuf's sleepy gaze smouldering on her body like she was a s'more as she shuffled around the room.

"Do you need help with anything?" Yusuf asked.

"No. Thank you."

Asiya was stalling, unnecessarily trying to find a place for every item so she could delay getting into bed without her hijab. Maybe by the time she had finished unpacking, Yusuf would've fallen asleep.

"When do you think you'll be ready for bed?" Yusuf questioned.

Asiya pulled on the bottom of her hijab. "Well, I need to unpack, do my skincare and brush my teeth. I may shower, too. What about you?"

Yusuf sat up like a seal. "I'm ready. I just need to brush my teeth."

"What about your skincare routine?" Asiya asked.

Yusuf chewed on the bottom corner of his lip, his eyebrows pulling together slightly. "What skincare routine?"

Asiya tipped her head backwards. "I finally understand why Allah paired us," she said in a fake haughty tone.

Asiya tugged on Yusuf's arm. "Right, get up! I'm giving you a skincare routine," she declared.

Asiya dragged Yusuf into the ensuite, plonked her overfilled skincare bag on the counter and started to bring out products.

Yusuf picked up some of the bottles, turned them around, uncapped them, moved them under his nose and inspected the labels, trying to determine their purpose.

"You look like a child," Asiya giggled.

Yusuf juggled with some of the bottles. "I've never had to use any of this stuff."

Asiya yawned theatrically. "Alright, don't brag."

She took the bottles from Yusuf and explained what they were and how he was supposed to use them.

Asiya then washed her hands and gently pushed the rim of her white hijab away from her face, exposing her pierced ears and a few tufts of her hair.

In the mirror, it looked like broken up clouds were gathering around the top of her face.

"Are you not going to remove your hijab?" Yusuf questioned.

Asiya pulled her hijab slightly forward, covering her forehead. "I don't need to. I can do my skincare with it on."

"Asiya, your hijab and outfit are white. Maybe you should change first," Yusuf suggested, " so you don't stain them."

Yusuf's touches, smiles, and closeness were heart-warming, but it was easy to pick up and eat food that had fallen on the floor when it was still in its packaging.

Asiya gripped the front of her abaya protectively.

Yusuf's eyes widened, and he jumped backwards, nearly crashing into shelves behind him.

"Asiya...I know we haven't sp-spoken about it, but I'm not expecting anything to happen between us tonight, or ever-wait. I mean not till you're ever ready," Yusuf stuttered.

"Oh God. SubhanAllah no! I'm not worried or thinking about that!" Asiya exclaimed.

Sex and everything that led to it had been the furthest thing from Asiya's mind.

Asiya closed her eyes and shakily exhaled.

"What's wrong?" Yusuf asked.

Asiya bit her lip. "You know... my hair isn't like yours, your mum's, your auntie's or Olivia's."

"Okay?" Yusuf stared at Asiya blankly. "There's nothing wrong with that."

Asiya let out a frustrated sigh. "Yes, I know. I just want you to be prepared. You may be expecting something, but my hair is completely different."

Growing up, Asiya noticed excitement always gathered around a hijabi when she exposed her hair.

Women would watch hijabi's intently while they fixed their scarves in public bathrooms.

Once someone became comfortable with a hijabi, "What's your hair like?" was often the second or third question they asked, if "Can I see your hair?" wasn't the first.

In the West, the hijab and the hair underneath it were treated exotically. They were either an exotic wonder or an exotic beast. The differences between those two things were slim because a wonder was exploited and gaped at just like a beast.

But Asiya had noticed that the excitement people liked to attach to her hair was strange. They never presented it on its own. Their excitement was always warped with something else, fascination, curiosity or disgust.

People seemed incapable of complimenting Asiya without assaulting her hair, and they often complimented her with their backhand instead of their front.

Asiya rarely removed her hijab, even in front of other Muslims.

She didn't wear extensions or weaves. Her mother had never let Asiya or her sisters combine wool, synthetic, or natural hair with their own. She followed the opinion that doing so was haram, and after her own research, Asiya did, too.

Asiya's hair was short, thick, and stubbornly beautiful. Right now, it was in neat braids underneath her scarf.

"You don't see it on TV or in magazines."

"I don't look at those things, Asiya."

A groan gargled through Asiya's throat. "It's just different."

"That's okay."

Yusuf walked back to his original spot. "Asiya, I don't care if you're bald underneath your hijab. I really don't. Allah concealed your beauty with it, yet I still find you beautiful, so imagine what I'll think when you remove it."

Asiya studied Yusuf. Nothing sinister or insincere was sieving through his words.

Yusuf placed his hands on Asiya's shoulders. "Remove your hijab and give your skincare routine the importance you've just shown me it deserves."

A thought moved through the back of Asiya's mind. This isn't the big deal I'm making it out to be, but it felt like a big deal to her—an issue and insecurity that had been fed and grown with her.

Yusuf's actions, the way he squeezed her shoulders, making pressure pulse through her, validated Asiya's feelings and made her feel like he respected them, too.

Is this what people mean when they say to be loved is to be seen?

Yusuf was looking at Asiya and claimed to see a beauty that she'd never quite noticed in the mirror.

What did Yusuf, someone who had only known her for a few weeks, see in Asiya that she couldn't see in herself? Maybe that was what people meant. Or perhaps it was too early in their relationship for her to be able to tell.

How did I get you? Asiya thought insecurely as she followed the lines on Yusuf's face, starting from his dark eyebrows and curled lashes that sat neatly on his eyes down his chiselled face to his slightly parted lips. Her beauty was insignificant in comparison to his.

"It would be nice to see you without your hijab, but you don't have to take it off if you don't want to," Yusuf said.

His voice was transparent, and it held such intense honesty that even the nag in Asiya's head couldn't doubt it.

Asiya raised her hands. She tentatively removed the long pins on the side of her hijab and placed them on the counter before unclasping the pin folded between the fabric under her chin.

Her hijab immediately loosened around her face but didn't fall.

Asiya's arms fell limp at her sides.

She wanted to, but she couldn't.

Yusuf pressed his fingers against Asiya's temples. Asiya closed her eyes as Yusuf gently pushed her scarf backwards. She didn't want to see his face change and be a witness if it betrayed his words.

The bathroom extractor hummed as Yusuf stepped backwards.

"Asiya, why would you ever be worried about what you look like?" he asked breathlessly. 

-

"Most certainly we have created man in the best mould." 

(Surah 95, At-Tin: Verse 4)

The Quran

Don't forget to vote 🥰 I hope you enjoyed it.

-

Chapter Glossary

Magrib: The prayer Muslims observe at sunset.

Nikkah: The marriage in Islam.

Walima: Arabic term. The "after party" of an Islamic wedding.

Hijab: A head covering worn by Muslim women. Hijab is meant to cover your hair, ears, neck and chest.

Mehndi: Also known as a henna party, typically a female only event. The bride has henna drawn onto her hands and feet and there tend to be performances, dancing and food.

Abaya: A loose, long dress worn by Muslim women.

Haram: Something that isn't allowed in Islam.

Quran: The thing that is recited. The religious Book.